A Fashionable Façade
by Blue Funk
Summary: Axel grasped both of Roxas’s shoulders. He leaned in closer, ignoring the flickering candles in the dark hall that were creating eerie shadows. 'Take off your mask, then.' He said softly, watching for the blonde’s reaction. 'End this masquerade.'


So while I was busy ripping my hair out over Chapter 3 of Special Discount (Still am, actually), I managed to write up a little one-shot for a contest over on DeviantArt for kitten-chan. I was going to wait until after chapter 3 was up and after the contest was over, but I felt horrible for not updating at all in a while.

The point of the contest was to pick out one or more themes set out by kitten-chan and make a fanfiction or fanart. I chose "Masquerade." What exactly I was thinking while I was writing this is unknown to me. Italian!Akuroku ftw?

Special Discout will hopefully be updated soon. Heh.

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**A Fashionable Facade**

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It was a night to be remembered. An evening of merry-making and laughter, of mystique and mystery. It was to be a masquerade to end all masquerades, and the setting of the culture-rich Venice was just perfect for the occasion. Come one, come all, and don't forget your costume. 

Or, so the invitation said.

Brushing aside the heavily decorated and, to be blunt, _frivolous_ invite, Axel snorted and turned back to his documents. It was the 1830's, for Heaven's sake, who still had time to attend such parties when there was so much work to be done?

Then again, the lanky red-head consented to the fact that he was being a hypocrite. His foul mood was only a result of his writer's block, which may or may not have been from the hangover from which he was suffering, which also had a possibility of resulting from a rather energetic gathering he had attended the other evening.

So yes, Axel Casanova was being a bit of a hypocrite, but he wasn't really about to admit it outright. The headache, his cruel punishment for the multiple glasses of whiskey, didn't leave much room for musing about his hypocrisy, anyway. Instead, he downed yet another glass of water mixed with the oil of oregano. His neighbor had eagerly recommended the stuff, but thus far, the heavenly concoction had yet to work its magic.

So much for Vexen's wonder potion.

With a wrinkle of his slim nose and a bit of squinting, Axel set his sights back on the still blank page staring up at him from his desk. The past ten minutes, aside from reading the post, had been spent twiddling his thumbs and flicking his quill this way and that. Zero progress. And it was, he had to admit, a bit humiliating. How hard was it to write a book on the human psyche?

This specific chapter focused around the social hierarchy and how people molded themselves to fit certain social groups. And the exact paragraph was meant to explain how certain humans, rather than conform themselves, set up a false version of their persona. A mask, a fake personality, so to speak.

Alas, Axel could neither find the correct words for his book nor the correct term to describe how absolutely frustrated he felt at the moment.

Miraculous drink now completely drained of its glass, Axel's mind, as throbbing as it was, started to meander about once more. His gaze shifted from the blank sheet to the crumpled eagle quill that was looker rather woebegone by now. That was when the lidded green eyes flicked over the invitation again. Grinning bemusedly at the sight of sparkles, feathers, and an entire cluster of green, blue, and yellow ribbons, Axel picked up the revolting thing for a second time, reading through the little blurb in the center before again tossing it away.

Demyx, as good of a friend as he was, had the poorest timing. In the note, the eager blonde had insisted that Axel come, noting that the writer needed a break from his dreadful textbooks anyway.

And Axel, as moody as he was at the moment, more often than not, would never have declined. But the circumstances now were pressing. His book needed to be finished by month's end, he was still hung-over, and he wasn't exactly sure where his masquerade costume was.

Frowning now, the frazzled red-head looked back at his desk. Another moment of thought went by before he stood up abruptly, grabbing the invite on the way as he stormed from his room. Book be damned, he might as well enjoy himself if he wasn't going to write anything.

---------------------------

He was, as always, fashionably late. The festivities were in full swing in the large ball room. From every corner, colors and lights flashed as dancers spun and hired entertainers amazed the crowd with their tricks. The costumes were brilliant and extravagant, and to no surprise, Axel couldn't recognize anyone past their flamboyant facades.

Dodging around two giggling girls with cat masks, he didn't hesitate to flash them a roguish grin as he passed by before making his way over to the far end of the hall. Here, at least, there was a bit of breathing space where he could take in the surroundings and pick out acquaintances.

Unfortunately, his peace and quiet was short-lived. Not two seconds had passed when a cloaked, laughing _thing _obstructed his vision and most definitely invaded his personal space.

"You made it!" Demyx crowed, throwing his arms around his friend of ten years. Axel just managed to dodge the blonde's large and rather feathery mask as he was pulled into an embrace. The red-head didn't even have a chance to return the hug before Demyx pulled away again to hold him out at arm's length.

He grinned in admiration, giving Axel's shoulders a light squeeze. "You look _brilliant_! Really, you do! The theme really suits you."

"The only thing I had left in my closet, Dem, I'm afraid." grinned Axel, glancing over his costume as well. Overall, the major color coordination of black came into play, with accents of red here and there to complement his scarlet hair. He had tied his spikes back for the evening into a loose ponytail, a habit that came in very handy during his writing periods.

"I like the mask best, even if it is only a _colombine_." The party host added, extending a gloved finger to poke at the papier-mâché decoration.

"Ah, yes, clever, isn't it?" The writer inclined his head, adjusting the disguise as he did so. The half-face mask stopped just by his nose, unlike Demyx's that completely hid his features. Tracing over the light patterns around his eyes, then up to the five crowns extending over his forehead, Axel chuckled softly. "The jester. A fitting mask, if I do say so myself."

"Ah, yes." Demyx sighed in contentment, pushing back his own façade to fan himself. "It's quite a party, you know. Even Marluxia from the far end of Rome has shown up here, although I don't recall sending him an invitation."

Demyx pointed the uninvited guest out with a proud smile. Snorting at the bizarre flamingo costume, Axel merely shook his head and allowed Demyx to speak on.

"There's rumors going about that even Roxas, owner of some hefty vineyards in Verona, is here! At my party!" Demyx beamed, rather taken with the popularity of his get-together. "In any case, I invited you here to _enjoy _yourself, not to get mad drunk like you did the other night. There's only punch here to drink tonight, just so you know."

Unable to keep a small pout from his lips, Axel grumbled, "You just ruined my fun, I hope you now."

Pointedly ignoring his friend's angry mutters, Demyx shoved his mask back over his face and gave Axel a nudge towards the crowd. "Go out and do some dancing then, eh? Writers like you don't get to stretch your legs much, I bet!"

So Axel had no choice but to be shoved back into the energetic crowd, just as a quirky Baroque started playing from the side of the hall. Impressive, Axel noted. Demyx certainly had to be earning enough of he could manage to hire a small orchestra to play.

Squaring his shoulders, Axel gracefully made his way through the crowd, occasionally smiling or bowing when he managed to spot a familiar face (as hard as that was). But, truth be told, the red-head wasn't much of a dancer. He preferred to stay on the side lines and chat, merely watching and observing. Many ideas for his books came through his practice.

Even now, Axel felt the familiar prickling in the back of his head as he sifted through the crowd towards an empty space on the sidelines. An idea was coming to him. Adjusting his long coat as he went, the writer managed to find a decent space to stand and watch the dance that was starting up as he allowed his thought to run wild and his gaze to wander.

He focused briefly on a pair that was a few notes behind the rest.

_"When one finds that he is not fitting in with the rest and is therefore often regarded as an outcast from the herd, so to speak..."_

The two, dressed in splendid costumes meant to resemble swans, paused and exchanged confused looks before finally joining the crowd in synchronization. Axel smirked to himself, setting a hand on his hip as he watched.

_"... then the outcasts will strive to adjust themselves to the unspoken rules. Walking to the beat of your own drum is more often than not, strictly prohibited. However..." _

There was a lone girl, slender, with a long neck, who was dancing alone in a corner of the room, disregarding the rest. A boy, nestled in a cluster of his close friends, occasionally sent her curious looks, but did not move from his spot. His companions appeared to be exchanging jokes about the spectacle and the one teen wasn't about to rule himself out and speak up for her. Axel's eyes lingered on them.

_"... fitting in with the crowd is not as simple as ignoring your own inhibitions and taking on everyone else's. To completely immerse yourself into the mass majority, one must, more often than not, adopt a façade to fool the rest."_

An overly skinny boy with a shock of orange hair nervously approached the girl, extending a hand. Pausing in her solo dance, the young woman hesitated for the briefest second before accepting the invitation, allowing the teen to hurry her off and disappear into the swarm, leaving the other curious boy behind.

_"A mask of sorts must be fitted onto your true person to remove your troublesome streaks of individuality. No one will be the wiser and with this standardized front, you are no different from anyone else."_

The music picked up a pace and the spinning colors of costumes shifted to urgent blurs, eager to keep up with the mass. Axel sighed to himself, finger tapping against his hip bone as he searched for the next words.

_"If everyone has grown a fancy for the Waltz, you will as well. If the Châteaux Bordeaux is the wine of the season, you shall drink it as eagerly as the rest, lavishing in the fact that you fit into the inner circles. This is the how human populace commonly conforms to peer pressure and... and..."_

Axel frowned to himself, head tilting as he mused about the next line. _"... and as such, establishes conformism. The façade becomes a natural practice and only in rare instances will the mask come off for the individual, who, really, is an individual no longer."_

There. Paragraph done. If not for the lack of parchment, he would have immediately written all of it down and proceeded to congratulate himself with a small jig of celebration. As it was, he did allow himself a grin and even contemplated seeking out a pretty girl and joining the next dance. Eyes cleared now of deep thought, the writer adjusted his mask briefly and prepared to seek out a partner.

Before he could even take a step forward, a body came sliding out of the crowd, boots smartly tapping across the marble floor as he headed directly for the writer. Axel just managed to take in blonde hair and a vivid half-mask of a sun when, without warning, the man grabbed his shirt front and tugged him into a tender smashing of lips.

Purely on instinct, Axel couldn't help but return the kiss. Eyes wide to observe this strange intruder, he took in the _columbine _mask of the sun and past that... a pair of glinting blue eyes that knew exactly what they were doing. Well, that certainly ruled out the idea that the man was drunk.

The blonde pulled back, licking his lips briefly before flashing Axel a grin and a look that most clearly said, _"Follow me... if you can._"

Axel watched the stranger wordlessly turn on his heel and head out of the hall, deeper into the great house that Demyx called his own, cloak billowing behind him. Intrigued with this new development, Axel chuckled softly as he set off after him. "If you insist."

Giving chase, Axel allowed the unknown man to lead him out of the ball room and deeper into the building, where only a few candles lit the halls. The tap-tapping of boots and, occasionally, the sight of a black cloak fluttering around the corner, was all that the blonde provided for Axel.

_"Not even any bread crumb trails? Disappointing_." Axel laughed to himself, adrenaline pumping now as he picked up the pace and reverted to a jog to catch up. He was getting closer, even if they _were_ getting deeper into the house. The boot clicks were increasing with volume and soon enough, Axel even caught a glimpse of the blonde spikes again.

With one last burst of speed, Axel sped around a corner and grabbed at the edge of the decorative cloak. Without pause, the red-head sharply tugged back on the material, dragging the blonde to a stop and pulling him backwards. As the stranger stumbled, Axel moved forward to spin the man around and deftly pin him to the wall. A shocked silence followed.

Candles flickered as the two men panted heavily, catching their breath while staring silently at each other. The blue eyes almost seemed to glow in the poor lighting. Axel was the first to regain normal breathing.

He smirked, gripping tightly at the captured man's shoulder, "Didn't realize that seduction worked that way these days."

The blonde snickered in response, relaxing against the wall and making no move to escape. He appeared to be fully content to stay where he was. "Who said I was seducing you? I could very well have been leading you into a trap to rob you."

"No, I don't think so." Axel leaned in closer, free hand moving to tap the ornate mask. There was, among the swirling glitter, small precious citrines embedded into the papier-mâché. "With gems like this? You have hardly any need to rob me. I'm just a lowly writer, after all."

"You're very keen, Axel Casanova." The blonde seemed to almost pout. Axel's eye twitched. The boy looked... adorable. Which made him even more curious.

"You know my name." The red-head raised an eyebrow. "Remove your mask."

Green met blue and the stranger took a moment to study him before laughing breathily and reaching up to tug off the mask. Axel's sighed as the disguise fell to the floor and the man's face was revealed.

"Roxas Bardolino. And what does a famous vineyard owner want with me, now?"

Roxas' eyes were almost gleaming by now as he smiled innocently. Axel had seen a bit of paintings of the younger man. The spiky yellow hair and sky-colored orbs were hard _not _to recognize. Knowing that he was pressing to the wall a man who was almost _royalty _in Italy these days, Axel released him, but Roxas was just as quick to pull him back again. To keep his balance, the red-head threw his arms out to prop them up on either side of the blonde.

"Don't go." Roxas growled, fingers curling around Axel's shirt.

"What do you need of me that you won't allow me to leave?" Axel replied, frowning.

Instead of a straight answer, Roxas sighed, head falling forward to rest on Axel's shoulder. "I was watching you tonight. That's the only reason I came. To see the witty psychologist of Venice."

"Ah." Axel murmured, glancing down at the warm head that was so close to his. An overeager fan, then? Was that it?

Roxas continued. "And as you were pointed out to me... I couldn't even believe it. Such a brilliant writer at such a young age! And there you were, standing off by yourself, staring off with this haunted look in your eyes..."

Axel could feel the lips moving against his collar as the blonde spoke, but he said nothing, curious.

"I had at first wanted to just have a conversation with you, discuss your books... but as I began to approach you, I noticed three other women about to come into contact with you and I... acted on instinct."

A red color spread across the back of the blonde's neck. Holding back a laugh at how incredulous this whole situation was, Axel sighed instead, sobering himself. "Sir, as pleased as I am to have a reader such as you, I beg you to release me now... this situation would play out badly for both of us if we were to be spotted."

"Drop the formalities, Axel... call me Roxas." whispered the blonde, grip tightening around Axel's shirt front. Just as the red-head was about to mutter about the wealthy man's selective hearing and force him off of himself, Roxas's mouth shifted from muttering into his shoulder to latching onto his bare neck, nibbling on the tender skin there. All the while, his warm, tanned hand, probably colored from days out working in his vineyards, began a steady path down Axel's clothed chest, increasing pressure as he skimmed over his waist and past his belt.

Breath catching in shock, Axel closed his eyes, feeling the younger man's teeth travel slowly upwards to nip at the sensitive areas below his ear while gentle fingers began a steady pace of stroking at the red-head's unbidden arousal. That's when common sense came hurtling back into his murky head, allowing the writer to shove Roxas back against the wall again.

Abused neck prickling, Axel stared intently at the vineyard owner, who was licking his lips again.

He chose his words carefully before speaking, "Roxas..." He said slowly, "I don't know why you wish to do this, but-"

"Book one, chapter eight, section thirteen." Roxas replied immediately, hands falling back to his sides. Catching Axel's bewildered look, he elaborated on his own words. "In your first book, the eight chapter. You wrote of the mind's insistence to gain affection. Of human instincts and the difference between lust and love."

That explanation hit home. Axel hesitated, eyeing the calm Roxas. Now he knew exactly what the boy was going on about, but it didn't help matters. "So where are you going with this? Are you saying that-"

Interrupting a second time, Roxas shook his head. "I don't _know _where I'm going with this, but I _want _to go with this. When I saw you, I wanted to kiss you, so I did. Just like in your books. Instinct."

His books and his writing, all which had been forgotten, now returned, and Axel grasped both of Roxas's shoulders. He leaned in closer, ignoring the flickering candles in the dark hall that were creating eerie shadows.

"Take off your mask, then." He said softly, watching for the blonde's reaction. "End this masquerade."

A look of confusion flashed through the blue depths, then realization. Under Axel's hard gaze, Roxas lowered his eyes, smiling sadly. "I'm afraid that the mask that's on the floor is that only one that I have left for you."

Lifting his face again, Roxas met Axel's gaze strongly. "With such an inquisitive sense like yours, you would have been able to see through any other disguise I would have set up. What you see here is no mask, Axel. And the only one remaining..." He suddenly smirked. "Is yours."

Reaching out slowly, Roxas wound his hands around the back of Axel's neck, finding the small knot there that kept the mask to his face. Never breaking eye-contact, the blonde undid the tie and let the cover drop to the ground alongside his.

Axel released a shaky breath, seeing that Roxas hadn't taken back his hands from his head yet, instead letting them drop to rest on his shoulders. "You attack me in the middle of a masquerade and then expect me to kick sensibility out the window? I don't know you, Roxas. We're strangers. This can end badly."

"Yes, I suppose so." Roxas grinned, watching as a similar one erupted on the writer's lips.

"And you want me to practice what I preach for once? Join the masses and allow these sort of feelings to rule my judgment?"

"No..." Roxas began moving in, closing the distance between them. Axel tugged closer as well. They both took a step forward. Stumbling over the masks, Axel felt a crunch underneath his boot. The beautiful masks now lay broken.

Roxas laughed, hearing the noise. "No, I don't. But..." their lips hovered, millimeters away.

"It's a start."


End file.
